The Mellark Chronicles
by trippy37
Summary: A variety of one-shots from Peeta's or his brother's POV. Whether it's little Peeta or teenage Peeta, there's always a girl with grey eyes on his mind.
1. If You're the Bird, I'm the Worm

On the first day of school, they are lined up to enter the small building; the one place where the town children and the ones from the Seam are on equal ground. Peeta looks around him. He and the other boys are lined up on the left with identical scrubbed cheeks and oiled hair combed severely, in their best white shirts. Across, the girls are lined up to the right, with their brightly patterned dresses and their tight braids hanging down. Peeta looks at the backs of their heads and counts, brown, brown, red, brown, brown, yellow, brown, brown, brown.

Soon they are called and they walk in together, each child following the one in front, until they are brought before their teacher. Seventeen children, wide eyed and silent. Nothing remarkable about the lot of them, Peeta thinks. He also thinks, as he steps out into the noonday sun, that he'd prefer the busy hustle of the bakery to the monotony the day has brought so far. He picks at the rolls in his lunch pail, until he hears a shout that makes him look up.

Before him, there is a boy in the yard with his white shirt dirtied and one shirt tail is hanging out of his pants. Standing over him is a girl, one of the brown braids, with her fists still curled.

"Don't you _dare_ say another foul word about my father again Gil Hawkney!" The girl with the brown braids is saying through a clenched jaw.

"You'll be sorry you did that Katniss Everdeen!" Gil says through tears.

Peeta knows Gil. His mother comes in the bakery often to buy sweets for her only son. He comes in alone for his iced cookies and tosses his coins at Peeta's father's feet. Peeta tries not to hate, like his father taught him, but Gil Hawkney makes it difficult to follow his father's words.

Gil is still sniffling as he picks himself up and runs into the school, pushing by the boys on the steps.

Peeta, barely noticing that Gil nearly crushed his hand on his way past, is looking at Katniss, the girl whose cheeks and eyes are still burning with anger and it calls to Peeta's mind the coals when they are at their hottest in the oven where they bake their breads.

Katniss, a Seam girl. She, who still stands, legs akimbo and fists still clenched as she dares anyone else to say anything against her father with her eyes.

Peeta smiles and looks back down to his rolls. Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, school might not be so boring after all.


	2. Twelve is Too Young to Die

Peeta tries to rub the sting of a sleepless night out of his eyes, but his eyelids scrape like sandpaper. It is the morning of his first Reaping and all Peeta wants to do is to curl up in his bed, burrow under his sheets and not come out.

Not an option any day. Any morning Peeta wants to sleep later than normal, he is dragged from his bed either by his eldest brother, or his mother. Neither option is preferable. One would leave his arm barely in its socket. The other would pull him up by his ear and slap his face.

This morning it is Mil, his brother next to him and only two years older, who gets him out of bed in a slightly more gentle way: a pillow to his face.

"Unmf!" Peeta yells in indignation against the heavy, goose feathers filled pillow. He pushes it away to hear Mil laughing.

"C'mon, get up Peet. You know Reaping day is one of our busiest." Mil throws his pillow back on his bed in the room they share.

Peeta sits up, scratching behind his ear where the force of the pillow had hit. His stomach rolls at the thought that his brother is right. Everyone, save for two families, leaves the town square relieved and ready to celebrate another year of survival with the sweets and heavy breads that Mellark's supplies.

It is sick.

But Peeta gets up anyway, as expected, and puts on his everyday shirt and pants, ignoring his brother's first Reaping clothes that are laid out on the foot of his bed, waiting.

After rolling countless loaves and icing cookies and cakes until his hand cramps, Peeta climbs the steps wearily towards his room. He climbs so slowly that Mil zips past him, giving him an elbow on the way.

"Last one to the shower stinks at the Reaping!" he shouts giddily from the top of the stairs.

If Peeta most often gets his ears boxed for being too slow, Mil gets it for being flippant. Peeta's never seen his eldest brother get hit, he thinks, but maybe that's 'cos Rie is taller than their mother now. At seventeen, he only has two Reapings left.

Most merchants have two children in each household. One, to run the business once the parents retire and the other to lose to the Reaping, if the odds are not in their favor. The 'heir and the spare' is what they call it and it works. Two years ago, the butcher's eldest had been Reaped and killed on the third day of the Games. The butcher's younger, now only, son helps run the business now. He's in Peeta's History class at school.

Peeta, being the third child, knows he was the mistake. The unexpected child. The one who'd better get moving, so he's not late. The last thing he needs is Peacekeepers knocking on the door looking for him. His mother would be furious.

He finally enters his room and hears the shower running, so he sits on his bed, moving his fingers along the seams of the clothes he has to wear today. Peeta tries to steady his hands as he does. His first Reaping. Twelve year olds that have been Reaped before always die. Always.

The youngest he could remember, his elder brother Rie told him, was fourteen. Some kid named Odare or something. Peeta was too young to remember exactly. Fourteen. Mil's age. Peeta has a fleeting fear now for his brother rather than for himself.

His brother, who finally exits their shared bathroom with his hair greased, wearing Rie's old Reaping clothes. Rie is old enough to have a suit, though it's too hot today for the jacket. A suit that after he survives his last Reaping next year, he will marry the Dressmaker's daughter in.

Mil throws his damp towel at his younger brother, "Go on, and get all pretty Peet. You never know, your little brown braids girl might notice you."

Peeta looks down and he can feel the heat of his blush working up his neck to his ears. Katniss. Mil means Katniss. The girl with the brown braids he sees every day in front of him in Math class. The girl who every now and then, catches him staring at her across the schoolyard. The girl who earlier this Spring, he gave the bread to when she was starving right in front of him. Katniss.

Katniss, who is also twelve.

The rolling feeling is back in his stomach. Peeta grabs his hand-me-down clothes and quickly showers and dresses. The clothes don't fit well. Peeta is shorter and broader than Mil at his age, so the shirt pulls at his shoulders, and the pant legs pool at his feet. He reaches for the hair grease and works some in his hair and tries to comb it like Mil's.

"Hurry up Peet! Mom already called up once." Mil called to him.

Crap. That'll earn him a cuff on the ear later. Peeta leaves the bathroom, nearly tripping on his pants as he does.

Mil is laughing at him. "Peeta, don't you know how to comb your hair?"

"No. What's the point? It only gets mussed up again either in the bakery or at school." Peeta replies, running his hand through his hair. What had he done wrong now?

"Peeta, you have a lot to learn about girls. Or Reapings, for that matter." Mil is still laughing while he pulls his younger brother back into the bathroom and pushes him in front of the mirror.

"I don't have experience with either." Peeta picks up the comb, but Mil takes it from him, and neatly parts and combs Peeta's hair back from his forehead.

"C'mon little brother. I'll fix your pants too so Mom won't have anything to complain about during her inspection." Mil helps tuck the pants into Peeta's shoes. "Can't have the Mellark boys put in a bad showing at a Reaping, now can we?"

Peeta walks with Mil a few steps behind Rie, who signs in first and joins his buddies nearest the back where the oldest boys gather.

"Okay now Peeta, you have to go sign in and let them take a fingerprint to match your number. It's easy. Then you have to go stand over there," Mil points to a cordoned off area nearest to the stage, "where the twelve-year-olds stand." He turns Peeta by the shoulders quickly to face him, an uncharacteristic serious look on his face. "Peet. Your name's only there once. The odds are in your favor, okay?"

Peeta's throat feels tight and can only nod. Mil nods back and pushes him ahead to go sign in. He waits his turn and steps forward with as much courage as he can muster, which, he thinks, isn't much.

"Peeta Mellark." He says as firmly as he can.

The peacekeeper grabs his hand roughly, places his index finger in a wet pool of ink and presses it down on the square where his name is printed. He pushes a pen in his hand and says brusquely, "Sign here."

Peeta scratches his name down and the peacekeeper shouts, "Next!"

He pushes through the thick crowd. There are kids of all ages, a few he knows; most he doesn't. Some parents are here with their kids. Not his. His mother and father are at the bakery, preparing for the post-Reaping rush.

Finally, he reaches the front where his brother told him to go. There are his friends from school, and Peeta joins the boys. They all look the same. White shirts, dress pants, oiled hair and scared expressions.

Beside them are the girls and Peeta scans the few of them that there are and sees her almost immediately. Katniss's hair is in tight braids. Usually they are loose and flowing as she runs, but today they are so tight it looks painful. And like most the girls, she wears a white shirt and a skirt, but Katniss looks uncomfortable in hers, shifting from foot to foot and hardly talking.

Peeta thinks she looks wonderful. But then, Peeta thinks she looks wonderful when she's running to and from school in her pants and patched sweaters. He is also a little scared for her. He looks around, but doesn't see her mother. Probably at home with Katniss's sister. She's here alone. At least Peeta can look behind him and know that Mil and Rie are there.

He should try and move closer to her. Perhaps comfort her? Peeta scoffs at the notion. Coward! You haven't been able to talk to her yet, what could you possible offer her? While he is contemplating this, staring at her once again, he notices that she is looking right back at him.

Peeta's breath catches, but he manages a small smile in return. He hopes it looks comforting and not creepy. She smiles a little back to him.

That, he thinks, is as much communication as he has ever had with her, bread incident notwithstanding. Peeta is pondering this and daydreaming, just a little, about how he might be able to walk her home when the vid screen comes on with the anthem blaring.

Peeta has watched enough Reapings at home on their small television in the bakery to know how it goes. The propaganda film. The crazy woman from the Captiol. Trinket, he thinks her name is. Mr. Undersee sits on the stage, as does Haymitch, Twelve's only living victor. Sits on the stage might be too nice a word. Slouches is more accurate.

Peeta hardly has a moment to wish for his, Katniss's and his brothers' safety when the first name is pulled. The girls'.

"Shae Barnell!" Trinket's high pitched voice trills. Peeta doesn't know her, but he thinks Rie might. The peacekeepers bring the tall, skinny girl to the stage. Trinket delicately puts an arm around her and asks for any volunteers. Peeta isn't sure if she has siblings, but only children are rare in Twelve.

Nonetheless, no one volunteers and the boys' name is called next. "Haulm Tate!"

Oh no, Peeta thinks, him I know. Peeta, at twelve, was finally eligible to join the wrestling team at school that Mil was in. Haulm was thirteen, but in Peeta's weight division. Peeta had wrestled, and won his match against Haulm only three days ago.

Trinket again calls for volunteers but there is no answer. Peeta can feel his heartbeat in his ears. Someone he knows. Knew. Haulm may be strong, but he is only thirteen and from a District that hasn't had a winner since his parents were children.

Now they are gone, taken into the Justice Building. Peeta feels an immense sensation of relief. His brothers are safe. He survived his first Reaping. So did Katniss.

Katniss. Who he had just imagined he could walk home with. Peeta looks where she had stood, but she's gone. He looks around to see if he can still see her, but all he sees is Mil coming towards him.

"That's rough. But Haulm's tough, so maybe…" Mil claps him on the shoulder, "But what did I tell you Peet? The odds were in your favor."

Maybe they were, Peeta thinks, as he begins his walk home. He survived his first Reaping and Katniss Everdeen smiled at him.


	3. He Can Wrestle

_He can wrestle."_

Katniss's words play back in his mind, on a loop.

Peeta sits on his bed, silently fuming in his room. The pillows have already been thrown against the door. He isn't certain why he's so mad. Peeta lies down on his bed with a thump. _Ouch._ Right, he thinks, no pillows to break his fall.

Perhaps, he muses, he's still mad at Katniss trying to talk him up to Haymitch. Sacks of flour? Peeta snorts a laugh out loud at the thought. Yeah, that's gonna help him in the arena. Sure, Katniss.

The only weapon he's ever held in his hands is a rolling pin. The backs of Peeta's legs remember what kind of pain you can inflict with one. Somehow, he doubts they'll have rolling pins in the Cornucopia. Peeta snorts another laugh at that.

"_He can wrestle."_

He might have to grudgingly give her that one. Peeta is quite certain that some of the more sophisticated moves he's learned over the years will be less than useless, like the duck-under and the down-block, which were his specialties. But, depending on his opponent's size, a headlock or half-nelson might just give him an edge.

Well, as long as his opponent isn't armed. Then he's screwed. Peeta's probably screwed anyway.

"_He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother."_

Hold on! Peeta sits up quickly. Too quickly. Sparkles dot his vision. He'd almost forgotten the rest of the conversation. How the hell did Katniss know _that?_

Was she _there?_

Peeta searches his memory of that day. Was it only last fall? He feels like it was a lifetime ago. Peeta was only Reaped a few days ago. He's like a different person already, rather than the Peeta whose biggest problem was to beat his older brother at the last match of the season.

Impending death will do that to a person, he supposes.

He lays back, closes his eyes and tries to remember _that_ Peeta, on _that_ day, wishing and hoping to win and maintain a modicum of dignity. He tries to mentally scan the crowd. Is Katniss beside Delly, who is cheering and calling his name? Or is she with Madge, who is quieter, but still clapping along?

He can feel himself back in the gym. The excitement of the crowd making his heart race. Pacing the mat. Dressed in his soft leather shoes and his blue gym suit and pumped about winning matches against six seniors to make it here, the final match.

_The final match is against his nearly eighteen year old brother, Mil. Mil and he had been wrestling together since Peeta was little, in the bakery, in the backyard; really anywhere they wouldn't get caught fighting. But, although Mil is taller, Peeta is broader and is in the same weight class as his older brother. He had been all season._

_So, they both know the other's strength and weaknesses. Peeta pinned Mil at home only two days before. The chanting of his name from the crowd proves that this match isn't a shoo-in._

_Off his left, there are his friends, waving and calling his name. Peeta thinks he even sees a few bets being made. He hopes his friends are betting on him. Peeta paces the mat a few more times when finally, a roar goes up to his right._

_Mil enters the gym with a big grin and he goes over to the seniors to get a few kisses from the girls at the front. Peeta rolls his eyes, though secretly, he wishes there was a certain grey-eyed girl here to give him a kiss for luck._

_Peeta jumps up and down to warm up his muscles while he waits for Mil to socialize with his friends. He stops jumping when his eyes find one of Mil's classmates. Someone who Peeta would never think would come to a wrestling match._

_Someone whose eyes are not watching Mil, who has danced his way onto the mat. Gale Hawthorne's eyes are on Peeta._

_Crap._

_It's not like Peeta hates Gale Hawthorne. He hardly knows him. What he does know is that Gale walks Katniss and her sister home from school every day. Something that Peeta, even if he had the courage to, can never do. Not with Gale Hawthorne around._

_Peeta can't quite see who he's sitting with. It couldn't be her. The last thing Katniss Everdeen would do is stay after school to see a wrestling match. And yet, here's Gale. Staring at him. It's unnerving._

_With his mind full of unanswered questions, Peeta hardly hears the bell signaling the start of the match. Mil has the first hold on him already! He hasn't pinned him yet, but with Peeta off balance so early in the match, things go from bad to worse. Within a not a too embarrassingly short amount of time, Peeta is pinned firmly by his brother. Mil hoots his victory with a little dance after a hard pat on his brother's shoulder. He runs back to get more kisses._

_Peeta's cheeks flush. His classmates, after some money is passed back and forth, file out of the gym. Delly waves at him with a smile, but even her brightest smile doesn't cheer Peeta at the moment. He waves back though, because she is best friend._

_He is doubly humiliated. With Gale Hawthorne there, Katniss is sure to hear of his defeat. Peeta takes off his gym shoes and tosses them into the empty stands._

_Peeta hears a soft "Ouch!" and then the scurry of feet out the door. Great. After disappointing his friends, now he's throwing shoes at them._

Peeta sits up quickly again, dizziness be damned. No. He did _not_ toss his smelly wrestling shoes at Katniss's head. Did he? With a quick look at the clock, he realizes it's time to go down to training. Peeta rushes to put on his outfit so he can meet Katniss at the elevator.

He's still jumping trying to put on his shoes on at the elevator when Katniss joins him, wearing identical clothes.

She raises her chin to him, "Hey."

"Hey. Katniss, I wanted to ask you…" Peeta starts, but the elevator doors open and interrupt him.

Peeta hops on after her, his left shoe still not on right. The doors close and they speed down to the training floor.

Katniss tilts her head towards him. "You wanted to ask…?"

"Right." Peeta's shoe has finally settled on his foot. "Katniss, were you at my last wrestling match at school? I only ask because I think I remember…"

The elevator stops and the doors slide open again. Katniss steps out, turns back to him with a grin that quirks up on one side. "Do me a favor Peeta." She nods to his feet. "Tie your shoelaces."


	4. Action!

"Action!"

"Hello Capitol citizens! This is Volumnius Jonsturn, reporting from District Twelve for Ceaser Flickerman! Today is an exciting day! It's the Top Eight interviews and how _surprising_ is it to be in District Twelve?"

"Cut! You'll add applause there, right?" Volumnius eyes her cameraman and he nods. She gives her green wig a pat.

"Action!" Volumnius's golden tattooed face fills the camera lens again.

"I know, I know, everyone is certainly enthusiastic about our star-crossed lovers! And only _I_ have access to their families! So, without further ado, I bring you, straight from outside the family bakery, Mil Mellark, Tribute Peeta Mellark's older brother!"

The camera lens finally pans back from the close-up on Volumnius to show a tall, slim man who sits on the stoop in front of the bakery, long legs hanging off the step.

"Mil, thank you for taking the time from your busy, busy day to speak with me." She tilts her head just slightly to the left and blinks slowly, fluttering her long lashes. It's a technique Volumnius has learned over the years that will put an interviewee at ease.

"You're welcome." Mil folds his hands in his lap.

"How thrilled are you that your brother Peeta is in the Top Eight?"

"I'm glad he's still alive, but…" Mil's hands twist as he pauses. "We haven't seen him since the tracker jacker incident. I'm a little worried."

"Of course you are, dear." Volumnius moves from her small, portable interview chair to pat his knee. Mil reflexively flinches.

"Let's go back, to the Reaping. What were your thoughts when Effie Trinket called Peeta's name?"

Mil frowns and a crease forms on his smooth brow. "I felt like…like I'd forgotten how to breathe, y'know? It was like once, when Peeta and I were wrestling and he pinned me. It was like that. I couldn't move." Now, however, his right leg begins to bounce.

Volumnius moves her head closer to him, almost conspiratorially. Another move she learned to gain the interviewee's trust. "Did you think about volunteering for your brother, the way Katniss Everdeen did for her sister?"

"Not at the time." Mil's eyes shift away. "You have to understand. I'm eighteen. That was my last Reaping."

"Oh," Volumnius nods, "I _understand._"

"But I've thought of nothing else since." Mil continues, oblivious to the Capitol woman, who makes a move to pat him again. Her hand hovers over his knee until she rethinks, after he gives her a look of disgust and puts it back in her lap.

Volumnius tries to recover from her faux pas. Obviously, these kids from Twelve don't understand the Capitol ways. She is mentally editing the final product. "Poor _dear._ At least you can take comfort in knowing that your brother might make it home alive!"

"No. No I can't." Mil's eyes mist. Volumnius waves to her cameraman for the close up.

"Why ever not? He seems like a strong boy." She leans forward in her chair again. _This_ is what she needs. _This_ is what the Capitol audience will eat up.

Mil looks up suddenly and Volumnius falls back in her chair. "He _is_ strong. Stronger than me probably. If it were just him, without _her_ in the mix, then maybe…"

"Maybe?" She prods. Her equilibrium is settled again. The editing, oh the editing she will have to do.

"Peeta won't make it back. She might. But he'll sacrifice himself for Katniss. Or, if she dies, he'll give up." Mil's eyelashes are wet, but he refuses to let a tear fall down his cheek. "Either way, I'll never see my brother again, except maybe on our television."

"Sacrifice himself for Katniss," Volumnius repeats dreamily. "Do you think that's why Peeta teamed up with the Careers?"

Mil's damp eyes snap angrily to hers. "Of course that's why he did it! He was trying to protect Katniss and lead them away from her."

"I know, dear. _Of course._" Volumnius flutters her eyelashes at him again. "Because he loves her." She sighs.

"I guess." Mil shrugs. "I do know he had a crush on her for a long time. Since they were kids." He smiles a little, "I teased him about it all the time."

Volumnius waves for another close up. "How sweet. Now Mil, if you could say anything to your brother Peeta, what would it be?"

Mil looks down at his shoes for a few beats and then looks right in the camera. "I'd say he's missed. His friends tell me every day. And the bakery," Mil's voice catches. He coughs into his hand and continues, "It isn't the same without him."

Volumnius sticks out her hand, "Thank you, Mil Mellark for taking the time for our Capitol viewers to know Peeta and his brother a little better."

Mil takes her hand, quickly shakes it and releases.

Facing the camera to have its full attention on her again, Volumnius adds, "Next, stay tuned for my interview with Primrose Everdeen, the Tribute that _might_ have been!"

"Cut!"


End file.
